Out & About #779 | Celebration Square Skating + The Last Hurrah (Again)

​They say that time is but an illusion - an identity created for humans to measure their existence in space. It may arguably be so, yet persists as the most reputably quantifiable unit worldwide, on Earth that is.

There is a sense of pride in this declaration, for while I admit pressure in this constant battle of inevitable time flow, the perception also serves to stimulate and motivate. But in a "New Day" sense.
This underlying sarcasm is tied to balking at the talk of New Year's resolutions. Goals are as dynamic as those that create them: sturdy like 35 MPa concrete in their early conception and fickle like kite strings amidst 70 km/h gusts as the days of January drag on. It was always beyond me why such an extravagant portion of the population allowed themselves to be dictated by the calendar, rather than exercise discipline in monitoring progress and accomplishing tasks with the existing circumstances in mind. 

Ultimately, time waits for no one.

​The arrival of January 1st tends to hold less meaning with each passing year. We are older, our society is supposedly more advanced, and the planet continues to rotate. Truthfully though, my present situation differs not from one second, one minute, nor one hour ago.

​I carried on with my regular roster of tasks, extending hope at a last hurrah before resuming the repulsive work ritual.

​Skies were finally clear after over forty-eight hours of dull ashiness. Sunshine and a coat of cerulean awaited us as we pulled into the Celebration Square parking lot.

After roughly twenty minutes of hesitant laps about the rink, I somewhat regained composure on the ice. Whatever muscle memory that remained had been summoned, and in quite the enjoyable atmosphere. Popular pop tunes could be heard from all corners, its origins several standing speakers under which a series of lights could be seen. With the reduction of sunlight in the early evening hours, they would cast coloured beams on the blade-streaked grounds, making for a fun, winter disco.

Strides were executed more confidently than the teetering half-glides at Harbourfront Centre and forward-hinged treading at Waterloo Public Square. In addition to the critical warm-up period, the facility itself presented a welcoming, judgement-free atmosphere for refamiliarizing oneself with the nation's favourite seasonal pastime. The Celebration Square rink was spacious, enabling uninterrupted gliding and easy acceleration. Congestion was undeniable at the narrowest section of the rink, though fellow skaters either navigated swiftly between the crevices, or alongside the edge of the rink with maximum finesse. Skate-friendly pads lined the perimeter, permitting access and egress from all sides; seating and more padding could be found about the centrepiece, serving as an interim rest stop or emergency landing area.

To the east were washroom facilities and a Skate Lounge with heated lamps for warmth; to the south was a mobile vendor for steamy beverages - a winter classic going hand-in-hand with the sport.

​We exited the area a few minutes before the arrival of the Zamboni, observing the textured surface become smooth once more. The sun had commenced its descent and I, with errands to complete, wiped off my now-bruised, now-rusted figure skates (exhibits of lack of maintenance that I assume no responsibility for following the first shutdown) and returned to the car.

The provincial government's announcement of restrictions had come just shortly before our departure, thus I was keen to salvage whatever play time remained at The Rec Room in advance of the 5th. There, I learned of the Pump It Up! server error and its corresponding impact on new users; dance counts had been surrendered, as with my chosen ID. ​Spirit resolute, I proceeded to challenge the tracks once more, until fatigue commanded my impediment.

With twenty minutes left before mall closure, I whisked myself away to Lindt.

A tour of The Food District informed of Kibo's pending opening, then fueled a previously suppressed inkling for sustenance. My mind wandered to the website of thairoomgrand. Having heard positive feedback from a fellow July baby, I began to browse their offerings. A sense of commitment was established at the availability of online pre-orders. That said, the process wasn't as straightforward as it could have been. Account creation and validation was required as a first step. Ensuing afterwards were several errors in the order placement process; the menu was, in no way, mobile-friendly, and the error pages I received only caused further confusion.
On the third attempt, success was attained. I plugged in the address and drove off, thinking no more of the server error page that had greeted me some thirty seconds ago.

​The restaurant was compact, located on the ground floor of City Centre's many new condo buildings. Pausing in one of the metred parking spaces, I dashed across the street, into the humid eatery. It was warm, uncomfortably so, and reeked of cooking fumes. The hostess handed me a small Thai Iced Tea first, then scrambled to assemble the remaining components of my order in the kitchen. "Here is the Thai Tea." She handed me the 10 oz plastic cup in a paper sleeve, but not before giving the unpackaged straw a swirl with her fingers. The gesture would have been negligible under a normal, non-pandemic scenario - not preferred, but passable. However, the only thought racing through my mind in that moment was whether I had spare straws in the trunk.

More food delivery drivers filed in. Orders were passed on to us all, and departures were made.

​Orders of Chicken Satay, Signature Pad Thai, and Massaman Curry with Braised Beef were unveiled at home.
A small salad and total of 2 skewers constituted the Chicken Satay. The pieces were spongy, lightly seasoned, and not at all spicy. Given the meat's leaness, I had feared dryness but gratefully tasted none. The dish was entirely mild, unlike the moderately peppery Malaysian renditions I have grown accustomed to after many childhood years of dining at Prata Man. At the same time, it was also not very memorable.

The Signature Pad Thai was tangy and of a generous portion. Crunchy bean sprouts, decent amount of charred shrimp, and tender snippets of chicken breast were nestled within the container alongside the flat rice noodles. Chopped peanuts came in a separate container for topping.
Pad thai plates are commonly found too greasy for my liking, shine growing more evident after refrigeration. Thankfully, this aspect was not witnessed with thairoomgrand; leftovers were effortless incorporated into a lunch assemblage of vegetables and soy braised egg. 

Looking to relive the Isaan Der experience, I heeded the words of the Thai ahgase, opting for a Massaman Curry with Braised Beef. While Thai restaurants outside of Toronto generally do not permit spice level adjustments, this creamy base was, fortunately, lightly fiery with extremely tender chunks of beef. The foundation was neither as sweet nor tangy as Isaan Der, though still readily devoured. The container was sized on par with the Yonge-Eglinton eatery in question, making it ideal for sharing between a party of two, or three in the presence of a second entrée.

Later that evening, I received three calls in succession. They originated from thairoomgrand's York Mills location, inquiring about my order and whether I had plans to retrieve the pre-paid bundle. Mouth agape, I came to the realization of my duplicate payment, and to a different location nonetheless. It was also at this time that discovery of a 22% off promotion code was made. Frustration arose and was responded to with recommendations for further correspondence with management was made to arrange a refund (stated less explicitly, of course).

​Technological hindrances aside, the newcomers of Mo Thai and thairoomgrand are well received in the west end of the GTA. Where authentic Thai restaurants are scarce, these eateries cater to those that have seen and tasted enough of Westernized "Asian fusion", offering an expansive assortment ranging in spice level.

I proceeded with sampling a handful of truffles from my 100-count drawstring bag. As with Christmas time, there is still no shortage of chocolate in this household.